


Heart of the Forest

by Cadjet001



Series: The First Terrible Fate [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Consentacles, Other, Ritual Sex, Sex Magic, Tentacle Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21824479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cadjet001/pseuds/Cadjet001
Summary: For the 2019 Femslash kink meme here: https://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/27607.html?thread=3774935#cmt3774935Original Work: Forest Witch/Forest Tentacles, all holes filled.
Series: The First Terrible Fate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800136
Comments: 3
Kudos: 119
Collections: The Annual Femslash Kink Meme 2019, The Annual Femslash Kinkmeme





	Heart of the Forest

The Forest of Phantoms stood dark and silent under a bright winter moon. Snow lay thick on the branches of its towering pines, turning what was usually a sea of green into one of white. The streams and lakes of the forest were frozen and many of its creatures slept deep underground, waiting for spring and the return of the sun.

But not all. Wolves still prowled between the trees, badgers still rooted in the earth, goblins worked industriously in their underground homes. In a frozen grove surrounded by the tallest trees in the forest the Coven of the Black Goddess danced naked around a pit which led deep into the earth. There were nine witches in all, young and old, all of them naked with their long hair flowing around them as they danced. They swayed and moaned and waved in unison, circling the pit at first slowly, then with frantic speed, then slowly again. It was the night of the winter solstice and this was the Dance of the Black Goddess, a ritual performed by every witch to restore her powers for the coming year.

In the sky above them a tenth witch rode on a branch of oak. Like her sisters, Amelie D’Montague was naked, her slim figure as pale as the snow in the moonlight, her flowing hair as dark as the night sky. Her only adornment was a heavy silver ring on her left hand. Between the white earth and black sky she flew, dipping and rising like a swallow. She circled the clearing, swooping low to brush the treetops with the tips of her toes then rising high in to the air to raise her hand towards the moon and bathe her ring in its light. Her hand buzzed and throbbed as it soaked in the goddess’s power, growing stronger with each circle and each rise.

As she reached the peak of her highest climb yet, Amelie took hold of the branch in her toes and stood upright with her arms spread wide. She took a deep lungful of freezing air, then through back her head and cackled.

‘Eeheheheheehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehheehhehehehe!”

Below her, nine other voices laughed in unison. The night wind swirled around her like a hundred grouping hands. Its freezing fingers explored her body like a lover and although she shivered from head to toe she felt no pain at all. The moon filled Amelie’s vision. She reached out to kiss Lunar’s silver face, then turned to look downward. The pit gaped open below her, a gash in the earth surrounded by thick foliage. From above it was unmistakably a woman’s opening, leading deep into the womb of the earth.  
Amelie was five years a witch, and had been chosen to perform the next part of the ritual for the first time. Her sisters refused to tell her what waited at the bottom of the pit; that was a secret for the initiated. She knew only that she must jump, and trust in the goddess to guide her fall. Her sisters stared up at her from a hundred feet below, while the moon stared down from above. Amelie felt no fear as she released the branch and stepped into the air, but as gravity took hold, terror came with it. For a moment she fell free. Then, a thick green tendril shot up from the forest floor, grabbed her by the ankle and plucked her out of the sky.

Amelie screamed as the tree tops rushed past her. A second later the tendril guided her neatly into the pit. Down she went, the moon receding into a speck at the end of a tunnel as she plunged into the earth. Roots whipped past her. A cloud of twigs and soil and confused insects surrounded her. Miraculously, she came to rest without breaking her neck. The vine deposited her on a bed of moss in the centre of a large, shadowy chamber.

  
For several minutes Amelie lay on her back, panting with shock. The silver ring was hot against her skin. There was magic in the pit, unseen but strong. Finally she collected herself enough to sit up and look around. The burrow was dark, the walls barely visible in the gloom. Amelie raised her ring to her lips and began to whisper a seeing spell. Before she could finish however, soft red lights began to appear all about her on the walls and floor. They were flowers, she realised, large red flowers growing from a creeper which lay thick all around. The whole chamber was covered by the twisting vines except for the patch of moss where she sat.

“Hello,” she said with a friendly smile. She had no inkling of what would happen next, or what the rest of the ritual involved. “My name’s Amelie. I’m honoured to meet you. Can you understand human speech?” About a third of the hundreds of flowers dimmed slightly. Yes, she thought, it did. “I was dancing for the black goddess up in the sky, then I jumped and you caught me. Do you know the black goddess?”

At once a thousand more blooms appeared. Blue, green, yellow, orange and violet. Amelie looked around in wonder. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, filling the whole chamber with light. Their perfume filled her nostrils and she felt a thrill of giddy excitement and arousal. This, she realised, was one of the secret hearts of the forest she had learned about. The grandfather oak was one, the first well another. This cave looked like nothing so much as a human brain, and the air thrummed with power.

  
As for what it wanted from her? Another deep breath of the perfume gave Amelie a pretty clear idea. She looked straight up and saw the white face of Lunar peeking through the hole a hundred feet above. The goddess was definitely watching.  
The long, thin vine which had snatched her was moving again. It snaked towards her slowly, as though it didn’t want to frighten her, and brushed along her neck towards her waist. It coiled around her stomach, up between her breasts and encircled her neck. The vine held her with a grip like a python, but it was gentle, careful even. Amelie was held in place on her knees with her legs spread wide. More vines pushed their way out of the ground. Unlike the first these glistened with a coat of oil from whatever cocoon had given birth to them.

The first tendril made its way up Amelie’s thigh and pressed its fat, blunt tip to her asshole. She relaxed and let it push its way inside her. The plant was warm and strong, and at once it went to work, thrusting slowly in and out. The vine which grasped Amelie allowed her just enough slack for her to start pushing back, up and down. After a few moments another vine came up to join it and reached for Amelie’s cunt. She gasped as it slid inside, so large and so thick. A fourth and final one appeared over her shoulder and cupped her chin gently. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. The vine’s secretions where like honey, warm and sweet and full of the same heady potion as the pollen which surrounded her. It slid in deep, almost to the point of pain, then withdrew and allowed her to bob her head along its length. As she drew back it suddenly burst open at its tip, revealing a pink flower with broad petals that seemed to quiver with desire. Amelie buried her face into its folds, lapping at the nectar eagerly. It was divine, unlike anything else she had ever tasted. She moaned into the flower as the vines in her cunt and ass picked up the pace.

Two more vines reached out and grabbed her wrists; another pair sized her ankles. Slowly, they lifted her off the ground and laid her back in the air, supported six feet off the ground by five thick cord while she was fucked in every hole. Amelie could see the moon again, looking down from high above, and she dedicated her orgasm to the goddess as the warmth of it washed through her. As she came another unflowered tendril appeared to fuck her mouth, while its twins in her cunt and ass withdrew to be replaced by another pair, then another, then another. She was surrounded by the coils. They turned her this was and that, thrusting in and out, now blocking her vision, now letting the kaleidoscopic light of the flowers dazzle her. She was coated from head to toe in their juices, her mind reeling from the pollen. Soon she lost count of how many vines had been inside her or how many times she had come. Why was she in that pit? She couldn’t remember. All there was in the world was pleasure and light and the wonderful taste and smell.

Amelie woke up above ground and under a blanket. The dawn was creeping into the sky; it was midwinter day. Her sisters surrounded her, dressed now. As she slowly sat upright they cheered and clapped. Amelie smiled broadly. She was sticky and aching and would soon have a pounding headache, but she was truly one of the coven. The ring on her finger pulsed with magic, stronger than she’d ever felt before. Next year, if they had no new members, she was going to have to volunteer.


End file.
